Maybe I’m way too far gone to ever be whole.
Not for pity, but for respect it is
To the shattered shelter to the storm
That I raise my glass
It’s for the eroded shore from the ocean’s might
That I hold my bottle close
When I am gone, it’s the trampled grass that I will remember
The **** of the forest and the burning
Of the limbs of the trees
The mother, the cave, the sweet care we forget
For that,
I will celebrate on the day I die.
My respects to the great spirits before me
The howling of the wolves and to
An abandoned dog’s whimper on a cold starry night.
I remember that no matter how small she might seem
The madness she holds is as big as anyone’s.
She works as hard as she can
Her body is broken in many places
The pain is a reminder – a constant plea
“take care” I am you and you are me
At the end of the day – you are all I have
The love that was once whole
Is broken – pushed into a pile of shards